Gaelikaa has drifted by with the topic to tease our LBC brain cells this week:
I could have cheated with a cut and paste job.
Written about a Punk Band
Gone down the road of protection of our culture and heritage from shock and disaster
No, I would rather tell you that I have lived at three different addresses in my 64 years.
My first flight from the nest (in Dublin) was to live and work in Germany. There I Lived within one culture (German) while working with another (American). Perhaps because I was young, I saw it all as an adventure, and made friends in both groups. I made the usual mistakes of buying weird tasting toothpaste – NO! – You don’t need to know what the tube contained! The couple of years actually passed quickly and taught me to become totally independent, able to live alone without the cushion of a large family around me. Who knew that it was the preparation for the past 13 years?
The second move was to my present home of thirty four years. Same Island. Same language….well almost! Different country. Very Different country. What a culture shock it was.
EVERYONE wanted to pigeon hole me.
Once I opened my mouth it was assumed that I was “ONE of THOSE, from DOWN THERE!” – The actual words from the mouth of a member of the Democratic Unionist Party, who called to my door canvassing my vote! The same gentleman, reversed away from me, all the way to the end of the driveway. Anyone would think I had Bubonic Plague!
I learned that asking someone what school they had attended was actually asking what religion they belonged to.
I came from a country where flags were for Public buildings, to a place where a total stranger calling to your door, would try to intimidate you into flying a flag (of a particular type) on your property, during the Marching Season.
I quickly learned to be careful what I said about people from the town. With a population of 6,000, everyone was related. I actually felt like I had moved back in time by about 40 years.
Walking through the town on one of those very early days, a total stranger, to me, congratulated me on being pregnant, a fact we had only shared with my parents and my local doctor. Since I never had much of a ‘bump’, the information had been passed by someone who read my file at the Health Centre (not the Doctor), or a member of the family who shared our telephone line! Within two days I had the latter problem sorted.
As for the lack of bump….. our neighbours from two doors away, were so surprised when Elly arrived, they saw no problem in asking bluntly if we had adopted the baby!!!!! This was a baby who looked the spit of her father.
I suppose nowadays, I am like a stone on the waterline of life. Washed in and out by the ebb and flow of the lapping waters, not quite sure where I belong but happy to drift with the tide.
The Half-Baked Bloggers Consortium’s (HBBC) first post, where Maha Mohamed, Ammar Al-Majali, Rana Safi, Maryam, Yara Hani, Noha Hanafy, Noor Al Zubaidy, Deppy, Nouran Ziad, Noor El terk, Salima Al Masrouri, Mariam Tarek, Sara Amr, Yasmine Fayez, Rania Khaled, Engi Amin, Ibhog, Abeer Zaki, Hagar Haggag Yomna Arbad, Salma M San, My Essam and I voice our opinions about a weekly topic chosen by various members. This weekend’s topic is Self-love, chosen by Nema (me). Please take the time to view their blogs just as you viewed mine in order to get different perspectives about the same topic.
Now if they are Half-Baked, I hope it does not mean that we at the LBC are Hard–Boiled! 😉